Visitors/Friends

Gabi Mocatta, a freelance photo journalist, came by yesterday to gather information for an upcoming story about Windgrove. Even though it had been a month since I had last walked the land, I didn’t want to confine myself to the house for the interview as it is easier for me to talk more articulately and passionately while actually out on the land, i.e., the stories reveal themselves while the feet traverse the “song lines” (so to speak). I, therefore, took a punt and walked the whole two kilometre Peace Path—the first time since my operation.

I could go on and tell you what we talked about as we slowly walked this great headland, but I would rather retell the following story that took place some six years ago about a man who “accidentally” visited Windgrove.

His name was Chris and he was one of three carpenters who, in l986, helped build the house I designed and lived in near Hobart until it burned down in a bush fire in 1991. He happened to be driving through Nubeena and, when he drove past the Roaring Beach road sign, he felt, he said, “a strong urge to turn down the road and see the beach”. Then, when he saw my name posted at our driveway entrance, he felt compelled again to turn in to see if this “Peter Adams” was the man he worked with in 1986.

When Chris, along with his wife June, knocked on the door I invited them in, but first asked that they remove their shoes as there is a “no shoes” policy. Chris laughingly said he would do this, but only if he was allowed to remove his leg as well as he had lost his foot and half a leg in a motorbike accident and the shoe was screwed onto the wooden leg.

Over tea we began sharing what each of us had been up to over the years. When Chris asked about the spiral he saw driving in, I described the various concepts behind the Windgrove Garden, especially the one concerning the need for each individual to personally find an inner peace. Chris and I were both painfully aware that our mutual friend Phil, who had supervised the construction of the house, had committed suicide a few years earlier.

Chris turned to me and calmly said:

You know, Peter, I died twice in the past year and I know what it means to lose all faith in life and then have the courage to find it again. A year ago I had a quadruple heart bypass and for awhile in the hospital I was clinically dead. Afterward, for months on end I was in such physical pain with my leg, broken rib cage and fused spinal column, that I set about planning my own suicide and was within days of carrying it out when June found out about it. Through her committed love, she brought me around to life again. Today, I still have to struggle with the physical and emotional traumas of life, but I also have a much deeper love for life, my family and my friends and I am willing to engage in this process, this journey I am on. My concerns are not about any ultimate destination, but just being present today of where my feet are on the path of discovery.

After so much talking, it seemed important to, at least, take Chris over to the Peace Garden and maybe do a portion of the Peace Walk. None of us were sure whether Chris would have the physical strength to make the full two kilometres, so we just agreed to go from bench to bench, willing to turn back if necessary.

Over and over again, Chris kept exclaiming how utterly beautiful everything was. There were pockets of fog and mist in the valleys, on the hill tops and up the cliff faces. The sun broke through constantly creating glistening water diamonds on the leaves and needles of the trees and magic rainbows appeared everywhere. At the Point, a sea eagle perched on a nearby branch and a wedge tail eagle spiralled up from the middle circle.

Chris was so enraptured by the vista and his own growing sense of well being that he kept pushing on. Slowly, we walked and talked and, eventually, we did the whole circuit in around three hours. When we said our good-byes, Chris added: “You have no idea how special this day has been. What you have done here is create a healing environment.”

And that took place six years ago. Yesterday, with the photo journalist Gabi and her partner Phil, I also walked slowly around the whole path and, at the end, felt renewed and “truly on the mend”. This land is a powerful, healing place. This single aspect is what I hope Gabi both felt and will write about.

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A year ago I used the above Amnesty International photo of a Sudanese refugee who was shot and wounded while defending his daughters from armed militia members who tried to rape them. Looking, then, at his eyes, I had asked “what is dead and what just might be green and moist, tender, loving, even hopeful?”

Without the written explanation of what the photo is about, and just looking into the refugee’s eyes, it would be easy enough to intuit that this person was expressing some form of emotion. We might not know exactly what emotion, but it is axiomatic that humans are capable of and hold within themselves any of several types of emotions.

Can the same be said for my neighbour’s dog, Winnie, in the top photo? Having cared for and been witness to her many “human” moods from howling with gladness to sulking for not being allowed up on the couch, I would say she expresses and feels many emotions. Animal right’s activists would most likely agree with me, but does the scientific community?

Well, the answer is yes. Two American research scientists, who had presented papers at an international conference on animal behaviour in Hobart, visited Windgrove this past weekend and explained some of their latest findings. Each has a hugh pedigree of books to their names. The man with the green baseball cap is Marc Bekoff, whose latest book, The Emotional Lives of Animals, “blends extraordinary stories and anecdotes of animal grief, joy, embarrassment, anger, and love with the latest scientific research confirming the existence of emotions that common sense experience has long implied.”

In The Pleasurable Kingdom, Jonathan Balcombe (the bird watcher) sets out with rigourous scientific evidence to formally recognise that animals emote, not just pain and stress, but pleasure as well. “Animals feel good thanks to play, food, touch, sex, anticipation, comfort, aesthetics, and more.”

Bekoff and Balcombe and others are proving what animal lovers have known for generations. Better late, than never, yes? Out of this research, though, the question inevitably arises: what are the ethical ramifications for society? Can we continue with business, as usual? Not only can animal emotions teach us humans about love, empathy, and compassion, they require us to radically rethink our current relationship of domination and abuse of animals.

My only problem with Marc and Jonathan is this: before their Sunday visit my winter reading list was getting shorter and to a stage of manageability, but now, thanks to their literary talents, it looks as if the coffee table will be cluttered with several more books of required reading. Will I be able to find the time to take Winnie for a walk? She’ll be really upset if I don’t.

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So who comes to Windgrove to partake in its natural beauty and restive charm?

Disembarking from the bus are 50 people from the states of New South Wales and Victoria; here in Tasmania and Windgrove (last Friday) as part of a tour organised by the Australian Garden History Society. These people are mostly 40 years of age and above (way above).

The bottom photo, from a weekend visit by Heidi Douglas and Paul Oosting on either side of my camera shy partner, Sally, are people of a much younger generation.

Between the two groups, are there generational clashes or do they share some things in common? Being at Windgrove certainly gives them a bonding of sorts. But beyond that, what I hope is that all of them are motivated enough in their concern for the earth that they will use whatever skills and talents they have to speak out for the care of the earth. Either that, or use their financial resources to fund others to speak for them.

I enjoyed guiding the Garden History society around as they were truly knowledgeable, inquisitive and understanding about the environment. Who knows on what side of the political fence they stood? What I can infer, though, is that they would want the environment and, especially, Tasmania’s natural heritage, to be protected from unscrupulous development. Wood chips; no way. Pulp mill; no way.

Heidi is being sued by the southern hemisphere’s largest timber company, Gunns, because of a documentary film she made about the woodchip industry in Tasmania. Paul heads up the Wilderness Society’s anti-pulp mill task force. For little earned money, both have invested much of their time and emotional energy for the sake of us all. We, of the baby boomer and older generations, owe them much gratitude for carrying the activist banner we might have dropped behind as weariness, pessimism and a touch of cynicism crept into our lives.

Sally’s painted stone mandala is an engagement present. Like the older generations before them, one thing Paul and Heidi will be honouring is the tradition of getting married.

Now, if only someone in the bus tour or elsewhere would help with Heidi’s legal costs.

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Beautiful

You’ve got to get up every morning with a smile on your face
And show the world all the love in your heart
Then people gonna treat you better
You’re gonna find, yes you will
That you’re beautiful as you feel

Waiting at the station with a workday wind a-blowing
I’ve got nothing to do but watch the passers-by
Mirrored in their faces I see frustration growing
And they don’t see it showing, why do I?

You’ve got to get up every morning with a smile on your face
And show the world all the love in your heart
Then people gonna treat you better
You’re gonna find, yes you will
That you’re beautiful as you feel

I have often asked myself the reason for the sadness
In a world where tears are just a lullaby
If there’s any answer, maybe love can end the madness
Maybe not, oh, but we can only try

You’ve got to get up every morning with a smile on your face
And show the world all the love in your heart
Then people gonna treat you better
You’re gonna find, yes you will
That you’re beautiful as you feel

Carol King

She came to Hobart last night and gave all of us “oldies” a thrilling concert. (Of the 4,000 people swaying and singing nostalgically in their chairs, maybe 50 were under 40.)

A true elder, Carol King carries her message of love for each other and for this earth to many appreciative people. She reminds us that there is no age where one retires from activism or gives up on trying. And the words from her many songs that held us together in the 70’s are just as relevant today.

Obviously, the above photo is a tapestry of people who are not in my generational age group. These are some of the 31 fifteen year old Steiner school students from the mainland who were waiting for me this morning when I arrived back from my overnight trip to Hobart.

I greeted them with: “You’ve got to get up every morning with a smile on your face and show the world all the love in your heart.”

Beyond that, my aboriginal friend Harri led the students in a day long ritual of talking up mother earth and finding the specialness and beauty that was unique to each one of them. They were sent out in search of seven objects representing: “who they were, happiness, sadness, love, fear, peace and conflict”. Then, using jute, string and other fasteners, they bound the seven gathered objects together into a single talisman.

Simple, yet powerful and meaningful. Just like Carole King’s music.

At one point we gathered around the Peace Fire and, just like last night, raised our hands to the sky in appreciation for the love that surrounds us constantly. The words spoken and sung by Harri might have been different from those of Carol King, but the message was universal.

Harri spoke about what the Earth sings to us each and every day. Let me try to translate:

When you’re down and troubled
And you need some loving care
And nothing, nothing is going right
Close your eyes and think of me
And soon I will be there
To brighten up even your darkest night

You just call out my name
And you know wherever I am
I’ll come running to see you again
Winter, spring, summer or fall
All you have to do is call
And I’ll be there
You’ve got a friend

If the sky above you
Grows dark and full of clouds
And that old north wind begins to blow
Keep your head together
And call my name out loud
soon you’ll hear me knocking at your door

You just call out my name
And know wherever I am
I’ll come running to see you
Winter, spring, summer or fall
All you have to do is call
And I’ll be there

Ain’t it good to know that you’ve got a friend
When people can be so cold
They’ll hurt you, and desert you
And take your soul if you let them
Oh, but don’t you let them

You just call out my name
And you know wherever I am
I’ll come running to see you again
winter, spring, summer or fall
All you have to do is call
And I’ll be there
You’ve got a friend

Carole King— You’ve Got A Friend

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